


Then I Saw Her Face

by livvjulienne



Category: Lost Girl (TV)
Genre: 90's AU, AU, Budding Romance, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Oneshot, Young Bo, Young Tamsin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 23:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17713961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livvjulienne/pseuds/livvjulienne
Summary: A charming take on Tamsin and Bo's first meeting, years earlier than in the show. Tamsin remains confident and sassy, but a scared younger Bo is searching for guidance in a world gone Fae.





	Then I Saw Her Face

**Author's Note:**

> This is a oneshot I wrote in late 2015 for a pal that I thought I would share. Hope you enjoy!

There’s no way to change the music in this stupid rental truck. I know. I’ve tried. Every so often when it loops back to track number three and “I’m A Believer” by The Monkees plays again, I wish I had my gun on hand. I’d shoot the radio, of course, not myself.

Damn it, track number three. Again. Along with it being impossible to remove the mixed tape from the tape deck, the power button is stuck which means I can’t tap it to shut the music off and I can’t rotate it to turn the music down. This is hell. This is actually worse than hell, because I’ve been to hell and I prefer those surroundings to these. I had to get the 1992 model. I had to be cheap. My car is in the shop for some ‘routine maintenance’, which always means a thousand dollar bill, or more, will sneak its way into my hands at some point. Routine maintenance. My ass.

This fucking song.

I’m driving home the long way tonight because I’m tired of the busy streets and unnecessarily long streetlights in the city. Friday night is not a good night to be driving casually through Toronto. You’ll end up there for an hour, at least, and I’m starving so I don’t have time for that. The sooner I can get to my gun, the better.

Almost home. I’m driving along the highway parallel to the woods that are infested with cases I’ll probably be investigating tomorrow. I’m most likely driving by some seriously illegal stuff as we speak and I won’t even know about it until the AM. Those woods. They are like quicksand. They’ll pull you in and never let you-

What the fuck!

My mind races in an instant, then stops completely as my foot lifts off the gas and slams on the brakes. There’s a figure in front of me. It’s too dark on these roads to tell who or what it might be. Looks human. At least, the silhouette is a standing form, arms raised and frantically waving back and forth, obviously to get me to stop – definitely human – and it definitely worked because despite how eagerly I want to run over this creature and go home to a hot meal and my double cushioned couch, I’m slowing down dramatically until the truck screeches to a terrifying stop. Terrifying because when I look up from the steering wheel, I notice I’m maybe six inches away from the figure, and that’s a very rough estimate. For all I know, my license plate is poking it in the knee or something. My mind slowly returns to normal, as well as my vision that had been compromised by the sudden panic and slight whiplash. The headlights to the 1992 Chevy aren’t great, but hell, I’m six inches or less away from the figure and I can finally get a better idea of who or what I almost killed.

A woman.

A beautiful woman, but who’s asking?

Beautiful, yes, but I am way too angry to care at the moment. I bet it’s been nearly a minute of me sitting in this truck staring, but she has to know what she just put me through, right? And there’s no blood on her anywhere. As of right now, this doesn’t seem emergent, which means I’m missing out on leftover baked ziti and couch time.

I push my driver’s side door open, and it creaks eerily, echoing into the quiet night. Then, I step out with my keys, of course, because this is ‘scary movie 101’, and I step around the front of the Chevy to stare this woman in the face.

“What the hell?” I ask impatiently and in a tone reminiscent to a toddler having the start of a tantrum. She looks panicked, though, and young. Eighteen maybe?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I saw your headlights and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Uh, yeah, well jumping in front of a truck flying down the highway isn’t exactly my version of smarts. I could’ve killed you! That would’ve completely ruined my night.”

“There’s something after me. I swear. It was chasing me and I finally spotted the road and your headlights and-“

“Something chasing you?” I ask just to clarify.

“I know I sound crazy and probably look crazy, but please,” she’s begging now, and it seems legit. She seems very honestly panicked.

“Okay, okay! Look, just get into the truck, all right? I’ll give you a ride home. Where do you live?”

“I’m not from around here. I’m kind of on the run.” I notice that as she’s speaking, she’s looking around into the darkness as if concerned about that ‘something’ that was following her.

“On the run from the something following you or on the run from a place you once called home?”

“Both. Can we do this somewhere else?”

“I already invited you into my truck.” I remind her.

“Right. Thank you.” She’s quick to get in, and I hear a soft ‘click’ after she closes the door. She locked it instantly, another sign of fear.

Her fear rubs off on me because I find myself getting into the truck just as quickly, and I manually lock the door as well. I remember I don’t have my gun, and now the radio isn’t my only regret tonight. I slide the key into the ignition and start it up, but it hums for a moment and doesn’t start. Great.

“This isn’t my ride.” I say quickly, embarrassed as I try again.

“Oh.” Her tone is slightly judgmental.

“No, I didn’t steal it. I just mean… this is a rental. So.” I go to start it again, but it stalls once more. “Piece of shit.” I mutter, trying again.

“The one person on the road that I manage to flag down, and this happens! This, right here, is the definition of my life!” She insists dramatically, her young age showing.

“Your life is like a stalling 1992 Chevy? That might be the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” I reply just as dramatically.

“Remember when I told you someone was after me? That hasn’t changed, I don’t think, so the sooner we can get out of here-“

“Oh I’m sorry. I’ll stop messing around and start the truck that won’t start-” I glare at her for a moment, “-with my magic anti-stall key that the dealership gave me along with the magic working radio installed up my ass.” My voice gradually rises as I continue speaking.

Boom.

We both jump.

There’s now a bloody handprint on the windshield.

We both scream.

“What the hell?” I yell, my rage turning quickly to panic as I try frantically to start the truck.

“I told you something was following me!” She yells back at me.

“You didn’t tell me it was a zombie!” I yell back at her.

“It’s a zombie?!” Now I’ve done it. Now she’s panicked beyond compare.

“No! No, no. Hey. Maybe. No.” I shake my head quickly, trying to concentrate.

“Oh God. Oh my God.”

“You need to hush. You need to be quiet or I’ll slap you!”

“Slap me!”

So I slap her. I mean, she asked me to. So I did. Hard. It felt good. Really fucking good.

“Ow-uh!” She hisses at me, holding her red cheek.

“I think I have to get out and check under the hood.” I say calmly.

“Excuse me?”

“The truck won’t start. I have to check under the hood!”

“Remember when you criticized me for waving my hands frantically in the dark as headlights came speeding towards me?”

“Yes. That just happened.” I remind her.

“And now you want to run outside while there’s a zombie murderer on the loose and get us both killed?” She insists dramatically once more.

“Okay. So we’ll sit here. We’ll be sitting ducks and-“ I turn the key again, this time the truck starts right up. “-oh.”

“Drive!”

“Right.” I slam on the gas, speeding off into the night.

Then I saw her face; yeah I’m a believer…

“Wow, I definitely didn’t peg you as a Monkees girl.” She says softly after a moment of silence between us.

“It’s a rental. I can’t turn the damn thing off. Someone must’ve lodged a mixed tape in there years ago and I’m the one who has to suffer.”

“Why would you rent a ’92? It’s 1998. Aren’t there better choices?”

“I’m strapped for money.” I explain. “Are we just going to ignore what just happened?”

“I’m just making small talk.”

“What’s your name, anyway?” I ask, realizing we didn’t have time for those little details.

“Bo.” She responds before looking over at me. “Yours?”

“Tamsin. How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen.”

“Kind of young to be on the run.” I point out carefully.

“Really? I’m a year above legal. I thought I was doing pretty well considering some of the runaways I’ve seen.”

“Well you’re not pregnant, I’ll give you that.” I tease, and from the corner of my eye I see her crack a smile as well.

“That creature tonight… it isn’t the only scary thing I’m running from. I’ve been running from scary for a while now. I feel like I’m jinxed or something.” She explains. I’m not sure why she’s telling me all of this, but I don’t mind it. The small talk is nice.

“You’re pretty calm about it.” Considering I deal with this kind of stuff all the time, I’m impressed with her composure. I’m Fae after all, and a cop. Bloody handprints aren’t anything new to me.

“I uh… I think I’m different.” I can tell she’s being careful with her words. She looks over at me, but when I turn my head to look at her, she’s quick to look away.

“I know all about different.” I’m hoping to make her feel more comfortable. Her breathing is still a bit wacky. I also want to get rid of the evidence on my windshield, so I spray some fluid on it and turn the wipers on. For a moment, my view is of smudged red wetness until finally the wipers do their job and the windshield is clean again. “But if I didn’t, tonight would’ve scared the shit out of me.”

“You’re not scared?”

“Not as scared as I would be if… I weren’t different. You weren’t as scared, either.” I look over at her, finally catching her eyes before looking back to the road.

“It’s like this evil or something keeps following me. The things you read about in books or see in horror movies. The things your parents tell you aren’t real.” She explains, her voice quivering ever so slightly.

“When did it start for you?”

“I’ve always felt a little off but when I turned eighteen it felt like all hell broke loose.”

“Eighteen. Things started happening to me at that age, too.” I explain to her. Once again, I don’t know why I’m being so forward, but there’s gentleness in Bo, a familiarity. Home is nearby, but I decide to go the long way around the block. I’m not sure why. “Do you have any ideas what it all is? What you might be?”

“I think about it often, of course. I wonder if there’s a world I’m unfamiliar with. A species I know nothing about. I always end up on zombies somehow.”

I snicker.

“What?” She asks, clearly offended.

“It’s just amusing is all.”

“I knew you were patronizing me this whole time!” She frowns, and it’s adorable.

“Hardly. Just about the zombie stuff. I can assure you there is no such thing as a zombie. At least, not the ones you’ve heard about.” I pull up in my driveway, stop the truck, then look to her. “You should stay here tonight. You know, on the off chance the walking dead find you while you’re on the run.” I poke fun at her again, but this time she’s not amused.

“Ha-ha.” She says coldly, but she lightens up for a moment as she looks to my house, a rather impressive all white structure with two stories and nice décor on the outside, and even better décor inside. “You’ll really let me stay with you tonight?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow we can figure out who or what was after you and whatever else needs to be figured out. I’m a cop, so you’re safe with me, and we can have our own little case.” My offer seems impeccably thought out, if I do say so myself, and even she seems intrigued.

“I wouldn’t mind the help.” She admits to me. “It’s been a long year on my own. I don’t think I’ve even spoken to someone like this since I left home.”

I nod slowly and reach out to take her cold hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’re okay now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“There’s seriously no reason for you to be this nice to me. For all you know, I’m the zombie murderer.”

“Nah. You’re too pretty. Also, I’m not usually very nice. So clearly, you’re different.”

She smiles at me, finding my eyes. “I already told you that.”

“You did.” I return the smile. “Let’s get inside before more shit hits the fan.”

She nods, giving my hand a squeeze. “Okay.”


End file.
